


The Turn of the Wheel

by Coru



Series: A Man Who Wasn't There [9]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: A Man Who Wasn't There, Alt!The Girl in the Fireplace, Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:36:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coru/pseuds/Coru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fifty-first century adventures don't usually overlap into the eighteenth but then again, when has 'usually' ever factored into travel with the Doctor? AU rewrite of Girl in the Fireplace, part of 'A Man Who Wasn't There' series, featuring Nine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Bonnie for beta reading. BBC still owns the lot.

  
There were many sounds associated with a ship at full power, the clanking thrum of engines, faint hissing of air purifiers and even the dull groan as the heat of the hull met the freezing temperatures of deep space.  
  
Aboard this ship there were no such sounds, thus it was only the deep, steady ticking of an unseen clock that was interrupted by the wheezing groans of a materializing TARDIS.  
  
"Fifty-first century," the Doctor pronounced, stepping out of his magnificent time ship in favour of a rather run down simple space ship. "None too shabby."  
  
Rose Tyler followed, busily tying her hair into a messy ponytail atop her head as she walked. "'S a bit empty. Where are we?  
  
"On a ship," he grinned when she rolled her eyes. "In a room on a ship," he continued, meandering toward a terminal in the centre of the room. "Bridge even," he added, tapping a few buttons. Panels slid away from the ceiling, revealing a rather spectacular pinkish purple cloud. "Ah. Dagmar cluster, couple galaxies off the Earth."  
  
"Brilliant," she gawked up at it as the Doctor played with the computer a bit more. "So," she paused, chewing her bottom lip. The Doctor didn't look up, but there was an almost unconscious tilt of his head at the sound of her voice. "Fifty-first century then?" he grunted an acknowledgement. "How far are we from the Boeshane Peninsula?"  
  
The Doctor dropped a rather heavy-looking cable, muttered something that sounded like a curse and shot her a dark look. "No, Rose."  
  
"I'm just askin' -"  
  
"I told you already," he went back to the terminal with a decidedly more hostile attitude. "Even if we could, all it would do is cross timelines because he wouldn't be there after we left him."  
  
"Yeah, well, we know where he is _after_ ," Rose muttered.  
  
"I've told you to drop it, Rose," he practically growled. "He'll live and he can't travel with us any more, end of story."  
  
"Fine then!" she stood up and crossed to the porthole, taking deep, even breaths as she glared out the window. "So this cluster, got anything good in it?" she managed a fairly good approximation of a calm voice. "What're the people like?"  
  
"Don't know; never been before," he pressed a few more buttons on the console. "Well that's a bit off," he muttered, frowning.  
  
Rose glanced over her shoulder and tilted her head. "Trouble?"  
  
His eyes met hers seriously. "This ship's all wrong. Engines are running full capacity, fast enough to get half-way across the system in a couple of hours."  
  
She tilted her head up at the unmoving cloud above her head. "But...we're not goin' anywhere."  
  
"Thank you, Rose, hadn't noticed that," his tone was dry and he had looked back to the computer bank by the time she turned to glare at him.  
  
"So..." she waited expectantly, and then smiled grudgingly when he looked up with nothing but an excited grin. "You have no idea do you?"  
  
"Nope!" he pulled out the sonic screwdriver and waggled it at her. "Where's the fun in lookin' if you know already?"  
  
She smiled for real and moved back to his side. "All right, come on then, theories?"  
  
"Give us a minute!" he twiddled a few knobs on the terminal and frowned at the display. "No life forms, crew's out."  
  
"We're in deep space; they didn't just nip out for a quick fag," Rose pointed out, rather unnecessarily.  
  
"You've got a knack for pointin' out the obvious," the Doctor pointed out, rather obviously. "Loads of use, you are."  
  
She shot him a disparaging glance. "Do I need to bring up the London Eye again?"  
  
He hunched down, focused entirely on his task. "No."  
  
"Besides," she grinned cheekily, the tip of her tongue just visible between her teeth as she leaned against a desk, "you like me anyway."  
  
He smiled broadly and, before she could act or react, leaned over and pressed a quick and almost entirely chaste kiss against her lips. She blinked dumbly at him.  
  
"I do that," he grinned and adjusted something with the screwdriver. He tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "D'you smell somethin'?"  
  
Rose recovered her dignity slowly, hampered a bit by the intense desire to seem as if she'd never lost it in the first place. "Um," she hedged for time, waiting for her brain to stop replaying the feel of his lips on hers and actually process what he was saying. She would have to give it a stern reprimand for failing in its duties, if it didn't step it up soon. "Yes?"  
  
He grinned wider and grabbed her hand, tugging her toward a door she swore hadn't been there a minute ago.  
  
"Well, that's unusual," he commented, gesturing to an ornate fireplace that appeared to be set into the hull. "French. Eighteenth century — bit retro for this lot. Three thousand years retro. _Actual_ French — how did they get an eighteenth century French fireplace on a fifty-first century spaceship?"  
  
"Well, it's built right into the hull," Rose commented, peering through a porthole. "Don't know where the chimney's goin'."  
  
"Oh!" the Doctor's quiet exclamation pulled her back to his side. He peered through the fire, smiling broadly and wiggling his fingers in a friendly wave. "Hello!"  
  
"Hello?" there was a small, pale blonde girl staring back through the flames.  
  
"An' who might you be?" he was still smiling cheerily.  
  
"Reinette," she replied, her voice quiet and suspicious.  
  
"Well, Reinette, I'm the Doctor and this is Rose," he nodded pointedly at his companion until she mimicked his wave and smiled. "Where are you just now, Reinette? Is that your room?"  
  
"Of course it is, Monsieur," she was even more suspicious now. "It is the middle of the night, where else would I be?"  
  
"Sorry, bit slow, me!" he grinned. "An' your room is..." he waited.  
  
Reinette blinked at him. "A bedroom?"  
  
"He's a bit thick, ignore him," Rose rolled her eyes and elbowed the Doctor lightly and ignored his objection to both the poke and the insult. "He means, where is your room? Where d'you live, sweetheart?"  
  
"Oh," she tilted her head curiously. "I live in Paris, of course!"  
  
"Naturally," Rose grinned. "See, Doctor? She lives in Paris, of course!"  
  
"Mademoiselle, what are you doing in my fireplace?"  
  
"Oh," she glanced at the Doctor. "That's a bit...complicated. Doctor?"  
  
He grinned. "Just poppin' in for a visit. Could you tell me the date today, Reinette? D'you know the year?"  
  
"Of course I do," she looked a bit offended and held her chin high as she replied. "Today is the twenty-third of October, in the year of our lord seventeen hundred and twenty-nine."  
  
"Oh, fantastic year, you'll enjoy it," he nodded enthusiastically and started to stand. He paused and shot a small grin at the young girl. "Back to bed now; not to worry."  
  
"G'night, Reinette," Rose called through the flames, waving slightly.  
  
"Good night, Mademoiselle, good night Monsieur," Reinette smiled prettily, then also pulled herself away from the fireplace.  
  
"Well, we know what the power was for," the Doctor pondered the fireplace, rapping his knuckled against the mantle in increasingly irritated exploration. "Now we get to ask why a fifty-first century ship has a hole to eighteenth century France."  
  
"Maybe they're winos?" Rose hid a grin. "What are you lookin' for anyway?"  
  
"The trigger," he muttered. "Got to be one, some way to actually open the door."  
  
Rose shrugged, but nodded and moved around him, running her fingers along the edge of the fireplace. "Can't you just wave the screwdriver at it and figure out how it works?"  
  
"It's not a magic wand, Rose," the Doctor frowned and stepped back, running his eyes over the piece of near-art. "It can't do everything."  
  
"No alohomora then?" she grinned cheekily.  
  
"Rose Tyler, you read _Harry Potter_?" he folded his arms and grinned back at her. "Remind me to give you the last two books; the end's a heart-breaker."  
  
"I told you already, I _do_ read — got to do somethin' while you're tinkerin' away at the TARDIS," she rolled her eyes and then gasped as she hit _something_ on the edge of the mantle. That something shifted, and with it went the entire fireplace. "Doctor!"  
  
"Oi!" but it was already circling around, like something from an old horror film. "Rose!"  
  
The room on the other side was not, as she had half-feared it might be, the outside of the ship. It was dark still, in the early stages of dawn. She peered through the window at the city beyond — well illuminated as the distantly rising sun's light bounced off of the glittering snow. She blinked and tilted her head; she'd been to the ends of the universe but this was her first trip to Paris. Definitely pretty, but she'd rather see it after the Eiffel Tower had been built.  
  
There was a sudden gasp behind her, making Rose jump. Reinette was sitting straight up in bed, eyes wide.  
  
"Oh, hi!" Rose grinned weakly. "Don't scream or nothin', it's me, Rose, remember? Talkin' in the fireplace earlier?"  
  
"Mademoiselle!" Reinette gaped. "That was weeks ago — that was months!"  
  
"Oh," she paused. "Time travel makes everything complicated, doesn't it? Anyway, you been all right? Nothin' strange showin' up?"  
  
"Only you!"  
  
Rose grinned. "You're lucky it was me and not the Doctor; he's much stranger. You got a light in here, Reinette?"  
  
The little girl shook her head silently. "I have a candle, but they haven't come to light it yet."  
  
Rose frowned then shrugged and adjusted the curtains to let in as much of the early morning light as she could. "Still, somethin' odd's gotta be about," she cross the room and sat on the edge of Reinette's bed. "Other than me, nothin' weird's happened to you? Nobody new in town?"  
  
"No, Mademoiselle, nothing," the young blonde pulled her knees to her chest. "Is something bad coming?"  
  
"I dunno," she smiled encouragingly. "But don't you worry. If it does? The Doctor and me'll sort it. It's what we do," there was a pause and Rose slowly began to frown, adjusting herself on the mattress. "Reinette, 've you got a clock under your bed?"  
  
"No, there is just the one on the mantle," she pointed, "and _it_ is broken."  
  
Rose swallowed hard. "Then...what's tickin'?"  
  
Reinette went pale.  
  
"Right, sweetheart," Rose reached out and took the girl's hand, voice very low. "When I say, you jump off the bed and stand by the fire, close as you can without gettin' burned, all right?"  
  
"Yes," her voice trembled only slightly.  
  
"Good girl," she nodded encouragingly, and then slowly swivelled, climbing over the carved foot board. Her trainers hit the plush rug silently, and she reached for Reinette, pulling the child off the bed and pushing her toward the mantle. "Run!"  
  
There was a blur of motion as something at least as tall as the Doctor burst from under the bed, moving after them. Rose held Reinette behind her, trying her best to look intimidating. The creature before them looked like a life-size harlequin doll, but there were no eyes peering out from the ceramic face.  
  
"If you want her, you gotta go through me," she declared boldly, puffing out her chest defiantly.  
  
"It wants me?" Reinette repeated fearfully, arms wrapped fearfully around Rose's midsection. "You want me?"  
  
"Not yet, you are incomplete," a mechanical voice intoned.  
  
"She's _what_?" Rose put her hands protectively over Reinette's. It didn't answer. "Oi, answer!"  
  
"Why me?" the little girl cried against the back of Rose's top.  
  
"You are compatible," it repeated. It stepped forward, and Rose stepped back. Another step, and suddenly she was very aware of how close Reinette was to the smouldering coals in the fire. The creature's arm extended and a slowly spinning blade was extended toward Rose's neck.  
  
Rose reached behind her, fingers fumbling against the edge of the mantle. The French girl whimpered. With a triumphant laugh, Rose caught the latch and the fireplace once again spun around, faster than the murderous toy could follow.  
  
She hopped off the platform and grinned broadly, taking Reinette's hand. "Safe now, yeah?"  
  
The child didn't answer, but Rose found herself questioning her declaration a moment later when she realized that the Doctor was nowhere to be seen.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
There was only one logical course of action after seeing Rose vanish behind a spinning fireplace: follow her.  
  
He was a bit surprised however when he hit the latch and realized that the eighteenth century French room he was standing in was not only a good deal brighter than it had been when he'd peered through the fireplace, but also empty. It was lavish, absolutely the higher end of the nobility - truly quite magnificent - and utterly bereft of small blonde companions.  
  
"Rose?" he stepped further into the room, a deep frown marring his face. "Reinette?"  
  
There was no answer; which worried him more than he liked to admit. It hadn't been long enough for her to go far. He crossed to the window, peering at the city beyond. Paris — he'd developed something of a grudge against Paris; things always seemed to go rather bad there. And the French didn't drink nearly enough tea to make up for it.  
  
There was a delicate ' _ah hem_ ' from the doorway. The Doctor started, dropping the curtain and turning quickly. Not Rose, not little Reinette either; a lovely Frenchwoman in a rather low-cut gown was watching him, smiling faintly. He grinned. "Hello!" he greeted cheerfully. "I'm looking for a blonde girl, answers to name of Rose? Seem to have misplaced her today."  
  
She was still watching him, looking not at all surprised by finding a strange man in a child's bedroom. From the hall a woman's voice cried for Reinette. The blonde smiled secretively. "Go to the carriage, Mother, I will join you there!" her eyes did not leave the Doctor. "It is customary, I think, to have imaginary friends only during one's childhood. You are to be congratulated on your persistence."  
  
The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Reinette," he shook his head, smiling slightly. "Looks like I've missed a few birthdays."  
  
"And yet you do not appear to have aged a single day," she approached quickly, gathering her skirts. "That is tremendously impolite of you."  
  
"Never been one for convention, me," he grinned at her for a moment, and then shook his head a bit roughly, pulling himself back to the present. Or past, whichever. "I was lookin' for Rose; she's gone and vanished...again."  
  
"Rose?" Reinette frowned and reached out to touch his arm briefly. "I wish I could say she has been here, but I have seen nothing of her since our last encounter."  
  
"Which was when?" he looked hopeful.  
  
"Over a decade ago, Doctor," she twisted her fingers against the ornately beaded bodice of her gown. "I have not seen you, either of you, since I was seven years old. I had nearly convinced myself that it was all merely a dream."  
  
"Ah," he nodded slowly, eyes drifting past her thoughtfully. She reached a hand toward his face, stroking his cheek gently. His eyes widened, attention brought definitively toward her.  
  
"I fear I am having difficulty believing in your presence, Doctor," she told him quietly. "For reason tells me that you cannot be real."  
  
"Reason's overrated, wouldn't trust it," he replied, a rather weak smile crossing his face. He glanced briefly to the door as a man's voice summoned on her mother's behalf.  
  
"A moment!" Reinette called back, irritation in her voice. "If it was not a dream, then I must express this: my gratitude, Doctor," then her hands were at the back of his neck, pulling him down to her. She kissed him deeply, the force of her enthusiasm nearly pushing him back into her dressing table. His hands rested lightly at her waist, neither pulling her closer nor pushing her away.  
  
"Mademoiselle Poisson!" the man's voice came again from the hall, closer now.  
  
Reinette pulled away suddenly, dashing across the room. She didn't look back, sparing only a moment to pick up a small bag from the table as she ran from the room. A servant stood at the doorway, gaping at the Doctor.  
  
He adjusted his coat casually, and gave the man a jaunty wave. "This almost makes up for the lack of tea," he informed him, quite seriously. He grinned and ran to the fireplace, hitting switch with sudden enthusiasm.  
  
"Who the hell are you?!" the man finally demanded, getting over his shock.  
  
"I'm the Doctor," he informed him as the fireplace began to spin. "An' Paris is _fantastic_!"  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Right," Rose muttered. "He shouts at me for wanderin' off, well this time who was it?" she kept Reinette's hand firmly in hers — it would absolutely not do to lose a little girl on this mad ship. Particularly an eighteenth century French aristocratic-type girl who was likely going to grow up and have a magnificent French aristocratic life doing something important. That was how things always worked with the Doctor.  
  
"Mademoiselle, where are we going?" Reinette asked tearfully, hurrying to keep up with Rose's quick strides. "Please, not so fast."  
  
She slowed, smiling apologetically. "Sorry, Reinette, I need to check if the Doctor's gone back into his ship. An' since I'm not exactly sure how long it will take for us to get rid of the monster from your room, an' we're absolutely not sendin' you back until we do, I'm gonna get you a pair of shoes."  
  
The little girl nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Mademoiselle."  
  
"Really," Rose shook her head, pulling the girl faster. "You should just call me Rose. 'S my name, don't need to be so polite, friendly company an' all."  
  
"All right," the girl seemed a bit awkward. "Thank you, Rose," she corrected herself.  
  
They were in front of the TARDIS. Rose crouched just a bit to be at eye-level with the child. "I'm going to run inside, okay? You need to stay here, but I'll be back so don't be scared okay?"  
  
"I am not scared," she replied firmly. She held her head proudly, even though her cheeks were still streaked with the evidence of frightened tears.  
  
Rose smoothed the girl's hair gently, smiling. "Oh, I like you. All right then," she pulled out her key and slid it into the lock. "You just sit, right there, and I'll get you a pair of shoes. Don't move from this spot, don't touch anything, I'll be _right back_."  
  
Obediently the child sat on the edge of a desk, her legs swinging lightly below her. Rose flashed an awkward smile then quickly turned the key, humming a nervous little tune to herself as she unlocked the door. She stroked the faux-wood panels gently as it swung open, hoping desperately that there were actually children's shoes somewhere in the ship. The wardrobe had a tendency to display things in the size of the person looking; she'd never had to find something for someone else. She froze just inside the door — sitting just beside the time rotor was a pair of tie-dyed lavender plimsolls, utterly mismatched by a pair of hot pink socks with embroidered yellow frogs. "Right, psychic ship," she muttered after a moment, quickly reaching for the shoes.  
  
There was still no sign of the Doctor, but she wasn't terribly surprised. He would never retire to the TARDIS to wait while she was stuck on the other side of a fireplace, and especially not while there was an unexplored spaceship — which happened to be doing any number of absolutely mad things — he could be interfering with. He was out there somewhere, probably muttering about humans being too much trouble and getting himself into some.  
  
She grinned at the thought and headed for the door, quietly locking it behind her. She held the trainers aloft for Reinette's viewing pleasure. The young girl simply blinked at them, though whether she was baffled by the fashion choices themselves or simply unsure of their purpose was never established. Rose hopped up on the desk beside her and faced the young aristocrat. "Okay, give us your feet."  
  
There was a blank stare. Rose raised an eyebrow and the young girl swivelled slowly, placing her legs in the Londoner's lap.  
  
Rose grinned and pulled out the socks, quickly sliding them on Reinette's feet. "Haven't done this since I stopped babysittin' Mo's daughter," she mumbled to herself, and then gently worked the shoes onto the French girl's feet, being sure to tie the laces securely. "Most comfortable your feet’ve ever been, promise," she proclaimed, pulling the girl with her as she stood.  
  
There was a moment as Reinette rocked on her heels, testing the give and flex of the trainers, but then she smiled widely at Rose. "I like them!"  
  
"Good," her hand was gripped firmly, and the pair once again set off to break the first rule of travelling with the Doctor.  
  
Elsewhere in the universe a rather large red light began to flash in a rather small cabin, and a course was set for the Dagmar Cluster.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifty-first century adventures don't usually overlap into the eighteenth but then again, when has 'usually' ever factored into travel with the Doctor? AU rewrite of Girl in the Fireplace, part of 'A Man Who Wasn't There' series, featuring Nine.

 

The Doctor, for his part, was beginning to get a bit concerned. He had emerged from the fireplace to find the room unchanged and still lacking in blondes. He'd spared the few moments it took to determine that there was a loose connection in the fireplace, but then quickly realized it would take hours to access and repair the rather shoddy bit of technology. Even if he managed it, there was no real guarantee he'd be able to stabilize it enough to find out when Rose was.

 

Humans! Always mucking about, playing with forces they didn't understand, and then not even bothering to do it _well_.

 

Which was why, sonic screwdriver in hand, he was making his way toward the primary computer banks. First he was going to have a stern conversation with it, and if that didn't work then the sonic screwdriver would have a stern conversation with it. Possibly utilizing setting 5428b.

 

Might even involve the horse he'd run into a few minutes back; a solid kick was always helpful in convincing stubborn computers to provide assistance — and since the animal seemed determined to follow him, it could at least be useful.

 

He stopped at a crossroad, tilting his head and listening closely. A grin broke out over his face and he took a sharp right, breaking into a smooth jog toward the voices.

 

"Don't look at it, sweetheart," Rose's familiar London accent drifted through the corridor. "I'm sure it's not real." 

 

He turned a corner and froze. "Rose," she jumped at his voice, turning around with a smile that didn't quite manage to survive his scowl. "Did you just bring Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson three thousand years into the future?"

 

"How do you know my name?" Reinette gripped Rose's hand but her head remained high, and only the faintest tremor shook her voice.

 

"Brilliant, me," he answered with a small smile for her before glaring again at Rose. "You can't keep pickin' up pets. She's an improvement over Adam I'll give you, good pick there, but she does have a life to live in Paris."

 

"I didn't _pick_ _her up_ ,"Rose shot back scathingly. "I saved her, no thanks to you. Nearly got my head sliced off by a robot while you'd swanned off. An' where'd you get a horse?"

 

"I didn't swan off! There's a loose connection," he folded his arms and frowned. "Went after you but the time window had jumped forward by about a decade."

 

"Oh," she gave a quick smile. "It's okay anyway; I got me an' Reinette out. You can always take her back in the TARDIS, right?"

 

"Not with these windows open, it's like crossin' into established events," he shook his head, a worried frown creasing his brow. "All over the ship, windows into the past. 'S where the horse came from. Just doesn't make sense, what do they want with her?"

 

"With me?" Reinette's voice was very small. "They said I was..."

 

"Compatible," Rose supplemented. Reinette nodded, her hold on Rose tightening. "And it'd only talk to her, it ignored me. What's that about?"

 

"No idea." He shrugged rather cheerfully. "They talked to her?"

 

"Yep," she smacked her lips on the word. "She asked a question and they answered, but wouldn't say a word to me."

 

"Tells a lot." The Doctor nodded thoughtfully. "Whatever it is they want her for, it involves obeyin' her. Maybe. Sort of," he glanced sharply at Reinette and knelt in front of her. "Hold on, just a second," he told her softly. He paused, resting his fingers gently over her face for a long moment. He straightened and gave a tense nod. "She's firing signals all over the place, side effect of having her brain mucked with. Why travel three thousand years for a child's brain?"

 

"My brain?" Reinette chewed her bottom lip. "Monsieur?"

 

"Not to worry," he grinned. "When you get home this'll all seem like a nightmare. No one can get hurt in nightmares, eh Rose?"

 

"Oh, right," she nodded enthusiastically. "Exactly."

 

"Then we must hurry." Reinette released Rose's hand and took a few steps toward the opposite hall. "I would hate to wake and never know the answer."

 

The Doctor's grin widened as he and Rose followed. "Fantastic. Think I like you, Reinette Poisson."

 

"Thank you." She paused, looking up at him as they walked. "Monsieur, if it is only a nightmare...must I give back the shoes?"

 

The Doctor glanced at her feet in some surprise. "Plimsolls? Really, Rose?"

 

"The TARDIS gave them to me," she defended. "If it's bad taste, blame the ship."

 

He frowned slightly. "How d'you mean _gave_ them to you?"

 

"Well." Rose shrugged. "I opened the door thinkin' how bad Reinette needed a pair of shoes and they were sittin' on the console. Not exactly the style I'd have gone for, but you can't be picky in a hurry..."

 

The Doctor took Rose's hand and pulled her to a stop. "Reinette, wait 'round that corner will you?" he smiled disarmingly at the child, waiting until the aristocrat had nodded and walked just out of immediate earshot before he turned and took hold of his companion's shoulders. "Rose, the TARDIS doesn't work like that," he kept his voice low, but worry threaded through it despite his best intentions. "You must have done something else."

 

"I didn't though," she shook her head vigorously. "Just opened the door."

 

"That's impossible, Rose." He met her eyes and she blanched slightly at the fear in them. "Movin' the shoes isn't a problem, but she can't read your thoughts, not enough to understand. Not even with me."

 

"I — I swear I didn't do anything weird," she shook her head, trying desperately to think. "I just opened the door and they were there."

 

"Right," he took a deep breath and released his not-quite bruising grip. "Sorry, haven't got time. Later, I'll figure it out later."

 

"Not worried," she smiled faintly. "Y'know me, I trust you."

 

"Bad plan, that," he shot her a smile that was only half-forced; she reached for his hand and threaded their fingers together.

 

"Monsieur," Reinette rounded the corner again, looking frightened. "There's a window — a woman is being attacked by the monster!"

 

The Doctor squeezed Rose's hand slightly and grinned. She returned both the pressure and the smile, before they did what they knew best and started running toward the danger.

 

"Right.He stopped and pointed just past the window. "Reinette, you stand there — don't look, don't watch, don't listen if you can avoid it. Don't go anywhere, an' whatever you do, don't follow us."

 

"Yes, Monsieur," her voice trembled, but she followed his direction, staring straight at the opposite wall.

 

The Doctor pushed the window open, holding his screwdriver aloft like a weapon and slamming the mirror shut behind them. "Hello, Reinette, long time no see," he grinned at the blonde. Rose stopped just behind him, eyes widening toward the beautiful Frenchwoman.

 

"Reinette?" Rose's jaw dropped.

 

"Rose?" The quite-grown-up aristocrat moved toward her, immediately clasping her hand. "Oh, thank God you have come."

 

"Doctor, what's it doing?" Rose squeezed the other woman's hand then released her to stand beside him. The robot was still standing in the opposite corner, observing them.

 

"Resettin' the systems I just froze with this," he waggled the screwdriver at her. "Now. Who are you and what do you want?"

 

The mechanical monster was silent.

 

The Doctor sighed. "Reinette, tell it to answer."

 

She frowned. "Why should it listen to me?"

 

"Why not? It used to," he winked at her and grinned. "An' maybe it likes you."

 

She stiffened her spine. "Answer his question," she paused and amended. "Answer any and all questions put to you!"

 

"I am repair droid seven. I seek a part."

 

"A _part_?" the Doctor stared. "For the ship? What happened to it?"

 

"Ion storm, eighty-two percent systems failure."

 

"So you decided to muck 'round space and time instead of fixin' it?" He shook his head, disbelief written across his face. "Thought humans were thick, human-built robots are worse. Why not just oh, _repair_ the ship?"

 

"We did not have the parts."

 

"So," He raised an eyebrow. "You thought you'd find good quality spaceship repair in eighteenth century Paris?"

 

"The part is available."

 

"What part could you possibly find in Paris in seventeen forty-five that's of any use?" his tone was utterly scathing as he stared down the monstrosity. "Gonna rebuild the engine with a chandelier?"

 

"We lack only one part," the droid responded. "It is incomplete."

 

He frowned, confused. "Incomplete? What's that mean, incomplete?"

 

"Reinette.   Doctor, it said that before, the other one, in her room," Rose interrupted. "Said she was compatible but incomplete."

 

Realization slowly crept across the Doctor's face. "Compatible. That's what happened to the crew, isn't it? Like runnin' a chop shop. What's a human body but a bunch of spare parts?"

 

"We..." Rose's voice shook a little. "Me an' her, we found a camera with an eye in it. And there was a heart...wired into machinery." 

 

Reinette paled.

 

"So, a part of Madame de Pompadour is the only part in all of time and space that'll fit you?" the Doctor circled the machine, his voice laden with disgust. "An' you're what, waitin' for the timer to go off? Gonna keep checkin' 'til she's tender?"

 

"Why her?" Rose bit her lip at the surprised glances she earned. "I mean, you've got the whole of history to choose from...why, specifically, her?"

 

"We are the same."

 

Reinette went rigid. "We are not the same!" she objected. "We are in no way the same!"

 

"We are the same," it repeated.

 

"Get out of here!" she gestured wildly. "Get out of here this instant!"

 

"Reinette, no!" the Doctor reached out to stop her, but it was too late. The robot vanished in a haze of blue lights, sparking up to the sky. He let out a phrase that Rose usually only heard from under the console. "Short-range teleport, probably gone back to the ship. Rose, take little Reinette, get her to the TARDIS and keep her safe. And _don't_ lose my horse!"

 

"Oh, we're not keepin' the horse!" Rose objected in exasperation.

 

"You wanted a pet! Now run!"

 

She shot one last suspicious glance around the room before running back through the mirror.

 

The Doctor whirled back to face Reinette, crossing quickly and cupping her head in his hands. "I'm sorry, but I've got to find out what they're lookin' for. Close your eyes."

 

She nodded her assent before following his instructions. His hands shifted until two fingers, ring and middle, resting on either side of her forehead. "Just relax," he murmured quietly, closing his own eyes.

 

"Doctor," her voice trembled. "You're inside my mind."

 

"I know," he answered quietly.

 

"You are in my _memories_ ," she emphasised, as if not quite sure he understood her point. "You walk among them."

 

"Just imagine a door closin' in front of anything you don't want me to see," his eyebrows shot upward, "like that there; door would be a good...well." he looked down at her, attempting a stern expression. " _That_ 's not what I'm lookin' for."

 

She smiled slyly, glancing up through her lashes.

 

"Manners, Reinette," he chided, though the slight smirk tugging at his lips softened the reprimand.

 

"To walk among the memories of another living soul..." a beatific smile crossed her face, "do you ever get used to this?"

 

"Not somethin' I do lightly," his fingers traced a faint pattern against her temples. "It's an invasion."

 

"How can you invade someone who welcomes you?" she whispered.

 

His brow furrowed slightly. "Reinette, how old are you?"

 

"So impertinent a question so early in the conversation," she smiled. "How promising."

 

"Not me, 's what they want. Age. You're too young. Why is twenty-three too young?"

 

Reinette twitched slightly, flinching away from his hands.

 

"Oh," the Doctor paused. "Sorry 'bout that...old memories might be a bit clearer, things you'd forgotten. Hazard of the trade."

 

"So much pain," she whispered. 

 

"Stay with me," he pressed his fingers tighter against her.

 

"So wounded," she gasped. "Oh, Doctor, how can one survive such agony?"

 

"It'll pass," he promised. "It's just a memory."

 

"Such silence; unbearably lonely silence, how can you live?" she trembled slightly and he broke the connection with a sharp gasp.

 

"How did you do that?" he quickly put the space of several feet between them. "You can't do that."

 

She looked up innocently. "A door, once opened, can be stepped through in either direction," she stepped forward, closing the distance. She met his eyes, her expression sad. "Oh, Doctor," she murmured, touching a gentle hand to his rough jaw. "You have such pain, my wounded Doctor."

 

"Reinette," he tried to sound stern. "This can't happen."

 

"And yet it is," her lips curved softly. "Dance with me."

 

He shook his head. "I can't."

 

"Dance with me," she repeated, her voice firm. She took a deep breath; her thumb drifted lightly over his prominent cheekbone. "Tonight, I experienced something rare. I stood just there, a child, and watched you rescue me as a woman. I didn't understand what had happened, but I knew that I trusted you and that you would save me. As a child I loved you."

 

"You can't, Reinette," his voice was raw but steady.

 

"Doctor...Doctor who?" she bit her lip. "It's more than just a secret, isn't it?"

 

He caught her hand. "What did you see?"

 

"That you have your partner as I have mine, but tonight, my Lord of Time, we shall dance together."

 

She curled her fingers around his and slowly drew him toward the hall.  Any further objections were lost in the music of the yew-tree ball.

 

~*~*~*~

 

"The Doctor is rather magnificent, isn't he?"

 

Rose smiled slightly, nodding. "More than a bit, yeah,"

 

"He's not handsome," the girl paused and tilted her head. "But I like him. Are you going to marry him, Rose?"

 

She choked on absolutely nothing. "Marry the _Doctor_?" she gaped down at the little girl. "That's — that's not even — don't ask silly questions!" she was appalled to realize exactly how much she sounded like her mother with that sentence.

 

"Well," Reinette paused. "If you won't marry him, then perhaps I will."

 

"You?" Rose laughed and ruffled the girl's hair. "You're a bit young to be thinkin' about marriage."

 

"Yes," she nodded. "I'll have to hurry," she added, walking a little faster.

 

"Hurry to what?"

 

"To catch up. I have to, to be the lady through the mirror."

 

Rose paused, looking over her shoulder at the hall which showed a distinct absence of Doctor. "Yeah...guess you do."

 

She glanced back, lips pursed — and had only a moment to scream as Reinette was grabbed tightly against one of the ticking monsters.   

 

She felt the sting of a needle in her own neck, and then whimpered just once as the world went dark.

* * *


	3. Teaspoon :: The Turn of the Wheel by Coru

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fifty-first century adventures don't usually overlap into the eighteenth but then again, when has 'usually' ever factored into travel with the Doctor? AU rewrite of Girl in the Fireplace, part of 'A Man Who Wasn't There' series, featuring Nine.

She was uncomfortable. That was the first thing she noticed. The reason for her discomfort, that she was strapped rather awkwardly to a slanted table, was understood a few minutes later, but at first she focused on the single fact of physical displeasure.

Her eyes fluttered open, and slowly hazel eyes focused on a grinning porcelain mask. "Wha's — what's goin' on?" her breathing came short as her voice raised in slight panic. "Doctor?" she raised her head, trying to peer around the room. There was no answer, no one but her alone in the room.

"You are compatible."

For a moment she thought her heart had stopped. "No, I'm really not. Seriously."

"You are compatible."

"Well," she tried to even out her breathing, thinking of how wonderful the Doctor's timing always was when it came to rescuing her. She didn't think about the people for whom his timing was less than stellar. "You might wanna think about that. You really, really might, 'cause...I, I didn't come here alone. Couldn't, right? I mean, twenty-first century girl, can't get to a spaceship in the fifty-first right?"

The only response to this was the sudden extension of a rather wicked-looking weapon, entirely too close to her face.

"Really, you don't want to do that!" she cursed her voice for hitting such a high pitch. "My driver, the Doctor, he's — you don't want to do that!" she scrambled away as much as the manacles about her wrists would let her.

The saw-like device lowered toward her neck and...stopped. It turned off, and the robot sagged. Around the room half a dozen others were doing the same.

"Sorry about that," a smooth, suave voice drifted from the hall, accompanied a few moments later by a very good-looking man in rather tight trousers. Rose gaped at him. He flashed a brilliant smile. “All right there princess?”

"I…I’m…fine?" Rose shook her head, dragging herself back to her senses. "No, I'm bloody not, can you get me off this table?"

"Oh, but the possibilities…" he winked, but pressed on his wrist and crossed the room to catch her as she slid off. "How 'bout now, beautiful?"

"Better," she smiled slightly. "Thanks for the rescue, but I thought the crew was all gone."

"Oh, they are," he nodded and shrugged. "I'm not crew." there was a pause as he reached for her hand and held it close to his lips. "Lieutenant John Hart. It's a pleasure."

"Rose," she answered, blushing. "Rose Tyler."

"A fitting name," he lowered her hand, but didn't release it. "Now, Miss Tyler, twenty-first century girl on a fifty-first century spaceship, the question I must ask: how did you get here?"

"Oh, um," she shrugged. "Hitched a lift, sort of. My driver's around somewhere"

"Oh, to be in the twenty-first century with a timeship," he grinned. "This driver…just how disappointed should I be?"

"Oh, awfully," her tongue curled over her teeth as she grinned. "Heartbroken reall-" her eyes went wide and she jerked away with a gasp. " _Reinette!_ Oh my god, they took Reinette somewhere! I forgot about her!"

"Relax!" he laughed and tugged her closer. "It's taken care of; what do you think got our attention here? Potential paradox sweetheart. Your driver is a bit of an amateur, I think."

"Don't tell him that, he'll have you," she grinned. "So…you're a Time Agent?"

"What gave it away?" he leaned in. "The stunning good looks? The stellar rescue?"

"That fact that I've met one before," she gave him a sly smile. "Which means I've heard this act already."

He sighed sadly and rested his hands at her waist. "My heart is truly broken, gorgeous, you think it's all an act."

"Maybe not," she giggled, "but I do think the Time Agency puts somethin' in your drinks."

"Oh they do…starting with hypervodka and occasionally working all the way up to Old Janx Spirit…but that's just for the adventurous," he winked. "I'd be happy to educate you."

"I'll bet you would," she laughed outright.

A rather annoyed cough pulled her attention to the doorway; the Doctor leaned against the frame looking quite a bit less than amused.

"Designated driver?" Lt. Hart raised an eyebrow. She shrugged innocently.

"Somethin' like that," she agreed, and then took a step toward the Doctor. "Is Reinette okay?"

"Depends; where's the little version?"

She paused and looked to the Lieutenant, eyebrow raised. "Lieutenant?"

He smiled charmingly at the Doctor. "No need to worry about her, my partner has her secured in our ship. I was just stopping by to be sure our clockwork friends didn't succeed in taking off Miss Tyler's head."

He straightened immediately and crossed to Rose, checking her for obvious damage. "You all right?"

She brushed him off, rolling her eyes a little. "Fine, I'm fine. Had'em just where I wanted'em."

"That was where you wanted them?" Lt. Hart smirked and glanced at her appraisingly. "I didn't think that particular kink came about until the thirty-third century, but hey, who am I to argue? Want me to turn them back on?"

"I think there's enough turned on 'round here," she grinned cheekily.

Hart's smile widened genuinely. "Oh, I like you!"

"Fifty-first century blokes are so easy," her tongue peeked out behind her smile.

"You don't know the half of it, sweetheart."

"If you're done flirting," the Doctor interrupted irritably. "There are still open time windows. Don't suppose shuttin' them down entered into your grand plan?"

"There shouldn't be," he turned all business in just a few moments, crossing to the computer terminal opposite the 'operating' tables. "They should have been shut down with the robots."

"If the world always did what it should do I'd have a lot more free time," the Doctor answered scathingly.

"An' no idea what to do with it," Rose muttered. She followed and peered over the agent's shoulder, pretending to understand any of the readings it gave off.

"Oi, I heard that," the Doctor frowned, leaning over the controls himself. "Looks like here's still a robot in the field, emergency override."

"Standard safety features, we don't want anyone left in the past causing paradoxes," Hart muttered. "But where? And when?"

"Doctor!" Rose grabbed his sleeve and tugged him away from the console just before it began to spark.

"What —" he broke off, once again brandishing his sonic screwdriver as the robots came back to life. "Took care of them, did you, Lieutenant?"

"I did!" he fiddled with something very much like the wrist-strap Jack had been so proud of. "They're ignoring commands, the corruption in the computers must be overriding it."

"She is complete," the robot which so recently had been attempting to remove Rose's head sounded as pleased as a machine ever could. "It begins."

"They've found the window where she's thirty-seven!" the Doctor started running.

"Thirty-seven?" Rose tried not to sound winded, but honestly, it had been a rather trying day.

"What they've been scannin' for, that's how old the ship is. They think she has to be the same age!"

"Oh, fantastic," she panted sarcastically.

"No clue why they want this particular woman?" Hart seemed to have no problem keeping pace with the Doctor.

"Good taste?" the Doctor grinned and stopped suddenly, causing the Lieutenant to skid past and nearly pitching Rose into his back. "Right then, plans. First, Rose…"

~*~*~*~

"Reinette."

Madame de Pompadour whirled, eyes wide and body stiff. There was a pause as she processed, then a wide smile spread across her face. "Rose," she half-whispered, reaching out her hands for the now-younger girl.

"I can't stay," she said reluctantly, though she did accept the aristocrat's brief embrace. "I'm just here to warn you."

"Warn me?" her voice sounded odd. "And…the Doctor is not with you?"

Rose raised an eyebrow, and then shook her head. "No, not now. The monsters are comin' back, in five years. You remember the…sky vessel?" she waited until Reinette nodded. "They found the way to when you're the right age, and they'll be comin'. It's five years off, sometime when you're thirty-seven. That's when they need you. He's already on his way, right now, it's just…for you…"

"As ever, I must take the slower path," she smiled sadly. "I fear it has been my destiny since I was seven years old."

"It wasn't your destiny though," Rose leaned forward, shooting a quick glance toward the hall. "I mean, _this_ was all your destiny. Versailles an' all. Those creatures have been messing with history; none of this was ever supposed to happen to you."

"Supposed to happen?" Reinette's voice hit an odd pitch. "What does that mean? It happened, child!"

Rose jolted a bit at the term 'child' — she thought she deserved a bit more respect, having played babysitter for the woman just a few hours earlier.

"And I would not have it any other way," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "One may tolerate a world of demons for the sake of an angel."

Rose bit her lip as the Frenchwoman stepped away to gather her bearings. "Guess so," she murmured. She glanced to the door again and started — Lieutenant Hart had appeared somehow. She stood quickly, raising her eyebrows curiously.

"Sorry, gorgeous," he smiled slightly. "Found the window, we've gotta run before the rest of them shut down."

"Right," she forced a grin for Reinette and waved. "Just stay safe, okay? An' when they get here, keep'em talkin' until the Doctor gets there. He'll show, promise."

"May five years pass swiftly then," she nodded firmly, and the pair departed from the room.

"Bit too swiftly on our side," Rose muttered.

Hart smirked and wrapped an arm around her shoulder as they darted beneath a tapestry into the fifty-first century. "You worry too much. You know, I got some great stuff from a roommate the last time I was in rehab, makes all your cares seem so much less important…not to mention what it does to your inhibitions."

"I'm honestly amazed that people in your century accomplish anything, with the way you all shag."

"You and me both, sweetheart."

~*~*~*~

"Just break the damn thing!"

"It's not that easy!"

Hart paced, his anxiety becoming more pronounced by the moment. "We can blast it! I have a sonic cannon!"

"Fantastic plan," the phrase 'dripping with sarcasm' had not been coined specifically for the Doctor, but there had been few sentences in the history of the universe where its usage was more appropriate. "An' after the history books rewrote themselves completely from seventeen fifty-eight onwards — with a headless Madame de Pompadour and eighteenth century French clockwork robots — what were you plannin' on doin' for your next universe-melting paradox?"

"Okay, so we have to get the robots out first!"

"Thanks for that, wouldn't 've thought of it meself!"

"Boys!" Rose stepped between them, arms extended out. "Can we puff out testosterone later?"

The Doctor let out a breath. "Someone has to go through and deactivate them before they kill Reinette."

"But it's solid," Rose pointed out, not entirely sure if she was being thick or if the Doctor was once again missing the very, very obvious.

"Yeah," he nodded. Thick it was. "And breakin' it will sever the connection. No way back."

She chewed her lip, processing. "Can't we go in the TARDIS?"

"There's a whole job lot of…stuff about. Residue from the time windows, muckin' up the vortex."

"In English, please," she rolled her eyes.

"It means we can't take the TARDIS," he adjusted the sonic screwdriver and did a few more readings around the edge of the mirror. "It's like when there's water on a tile floor; you put your foot down on the wrong spot and you end up on your backside."

"So…if we tried to land in seventeen fifty-eight, we'd end up on our backsides? Worse than usual?"

"Metaphorically, yeah," he glared at the sonic tool and shoved it back in his pockets. "It doesn't matter. The TARDIS wouldn't let us within a decade and a million miles of this."

"There's always my vortex manipulator," Lieutenant Hart suggested, holding up his arm.

"When the TARDIS doesn't want to do somethin'," the Doctor replied scathingly, "there's a good reason. You don't want to slip in the vortex."

There was a flash of anger. "If you're so brilliant, then you suggest something!"

"I've already figured it out!" he glared at the human. There was a pause, silence as he caught Rose's eye. "I promised," his tone was almost apologetic, but too flippant to be genuinely sorry.

"Yeah," she nodded, staring at the floor. "An' you're the Doctor."

He was gone by the time she looked up, leaving broken glass and hoof prints behind.

"Well," Hart stared at the shattered remains of the time window. "He's got a flare for the dramatic, I'll give him that."

"Yeah," her voice was just a bit thick.

"You know we can take you home," he gave a smile that was almost entirely not a leer. "Got my own agency provided ship, not far off this one."

"Nah," she wrapped her arms around her torso. "He'll be back for me. Can't leave without him."

"He's trapped three thousand years in the past, Rose," his tone was rather gentle. "Besides, you haven't met my partner. It'd be a party."

"No," she shook her head slowly. "You should get goin'. More deeds to be done, time to travel through. Willin' aliens to shag."

"There sure are," he grinned. "You're a great kid," he shrugged and threw his arms around her, kissing her soundly. "Take care of yourself. If he doesn't show and you change your mind, you press this," he held up a small red button. "The battery'll die in two or three days, it's just a disposable, but it's linked to my wrist strap. I've got no problem coming back to give you a lift."

"Thanks," she smiled faintly. "Take care of yourself. Don't let the Agency wipe your memory and leave you stranded in nineteen forty-one."

He raised a delicate, scarred eyebrow. "I'll do my best to avoid it," he grinned and ruffled her hair. "See you later, gorgeous."

"Yeah."

There was a dim 'ping' and flash of light, and then Rose Tyler was truly and utterly alone…three thousand years in her future and two point five galaxies from home.

~*~*~*~

The first day was largely spent staring at the hole left by the mirror. She amused herself by compiling a mental list of every adventure they'd had, with particular emphasis on the ones that had seemed utterly hopeless before ending relatively happily. She made it to the departure of Adam before giving up and returning to the TARDIS for a shower and a kip.

The following days melded together in a haze of desperate distractions. Reading in the library one day, working herself to exhaustion in the gym the next. It was actually four days before John Hart's beacon stopped blinking. Rose tossed it into the Doctor's 'junk closet' without a second glance.

She was half-way through learning to control the spatio-temporal regulator on the Doctor's TiVo when she felt the floor jerk beneath her; she was on her feet, running for the console room, before the remote hit the ground.

He was there. He stood at the console, his back to the hall, his long, graceful fingers running over the controls in what could only be called a caress. She stood in the door, trying to catch her breath after the sprint up several flights of stairs.

Slowly he turned, the dim amber lights creating deep shadows in his features…or perhaps the shadows were simply there. He was wearing different clothes…his jacket remained, but his jeans had been traded for rough-sewn trousers, and he wore an odd, ruffled sort of shirt that would have looked feminine on anyone else. She took a step closer, and something shifted in his eyes. He closed himself off and moved around the console.

There were no dramatic embraces or declarations of affection…she could say she hadn't expected them, but it wasn't entirely true. She'd had a lot of time to day-dream recently after all.

"Doctor?"

"Still here then?" he didn't look at her.

She frowned, slowly entering the room. "Shouldn't I be?"

"Thought you'd have caught a ride with the agent," something was very, very off in his voice. Not jealousy — she knew exactly what that sounded like from his lips.

She shook her head slowly. "He offered," she wrapped her fingers tightly around the back of the captain's seat. "How did you get back?"

"Oh, how I figured I would," he smiled entirely too cheerfully. "Found an old self, hitched a lift. Almost changed history; nearly interrupted meself before I could tell James Watt the trick to the steam engine. Would've been a right mess, that."

She murmured something vaguely affirmative.

"Don't know about you but I've had a long trip," he grinned quickly and moved around the console, giving her a wide berth. "Need a bit of a kip. We're safe in the vortex now."

"Okay," she nodded, biting her lower lip. "I'll…see you in the morning then."

She waited for him to remind her, as he had so often in the past, that there were no mornings on the TARDIS…but he just gave a tight smile and moved deeper into the ship at near a run.

~*~*~*~

She had not cried while she waited. As she had quite firmly told herself, there was no cause. The Doctor would be back, they would have more adventures just like always…it was silly to cry because she was left to amuse herself for a while.

She had not cried then, and she would not cry now — no matter how the tears burned in her chest. She finally allowed herself the closest she could come to admitting there was a problem: she wore her comfort pyjamas, purchased by her mum after The Jimmy Stone Incident, and curled into a tight ball around a tattered old teddy bear that she'd had since birth.

She never heard the door slide open, or the whisper of fabric against skin as he moved into the room, but the faint movement of her mattress, the sudden weight near her feet, drew her attention. She opened her eyes slowly, her gaze sliding to the wretched figure at the end of her bed. The Doctor was hunched forward, elbows on knees and head clutched in his hands. She'd never seen him in pyjamas before; he looked small and vulnerable without his jacket; the dim blue light of her room made his bare chest seem almost incandescent. She shifted to her knees, drawing herself closer — slowly, terrified that he would run again.

"Doctor?" her voice was low and even, but not even she could keep the worried note from it.

"Oh, Rose," he lifted his head and met her eyes; she was startled by the despair in his expression. She had never seen him so exposed. He took in a shuddering breath and then somehow he had pulled her to him, clutched her to his chest with a ferocity that shocked her — not since Van Statten's bunker had he held her so desperately.

He was embarrassed when he let her go, pulling away quite suddenly and staring blankly at the fake starscape projected onto her ceiling; the sky as seen from the English countryside in the twenty-first century. Rose took his hand and laced their fingers together; refusing to let him go.

"Might need that back," he told her softly.

"Tough," she scooted back, toward her pillows, and tugged him along with. "You're stayin'," he looked at her strangely, and she hesitated. "Just, I've been alone, and…" she trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"Me too," he allowed himself to be tugged, and somehow a few moments later found himself spooned behind her beneath a heavy duvet.

"Seven years," the soft admission ruffled the hair against her ear; she fought to repress a shiver. "It's been seven years for me."

She shifted in his embrace until she was on her back and able to look up at him. He was watching her almost hungrily, like a starving man at a steak dinner: desperation and a dose of disbelief filling his eyes. "What did you do?"

"Same old life," he grimaced. "Travellin' is a bit harder on foot, but I managed."

She bit her lip lightly. "You didn't stay with Reinette?"

"Nope," his fingers clenched around her arm almost painfully, belying his light tone. "Bit rigid there. Never been one for social structure, me. Stayed for a week or so disassembling the robots, then moved on. Nothin' to keep me there."

"Oh," she let out a breath and curved herself closer, listening to the quiet beat drumming under his skin as she rested her head against his chest. It was soothing and she felt herself beginning to drift.

"For you?"

She blinked sleepily. "Hmm?" she paused, thinking. "Oh. Two weeks, give or take a few days. Hard to keep track."

"Why did you stay?"

Her brow furrowed and she looked up. "Why would I go?"

He very studiously did not meet her eyes. "You could have gone back to London."

"Yeah," she nodded slowly. "Could've." there was a long silence. "You expected me to be gone." It wasn't a question.

"Guess I underestimated you, Rose Tyler."

"Yeah," she shifted, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Don't do it again."

They both knew what she meant.

He let out a soft sigh and rested his head against her hair, wishing he could give her the answer she wanted.  But there were no promises in his life.

~*~*~

* * *


End file.
